Mii
07-23-2010, 08:36 PM
Okaygaiz. I wrote this story in 5th grade which was like 2 years ago ._. And I have already spotted a couple flaws, so before you throw a bunch of constructive critisism at me, I do realize that the ending (the whole realization thing) is a little too fast. I know the girl doesn't talk much, and all that good stuff... Blabbity blee... But I am very proud of the dream scene. I got an A+ on this story so if you don't like it, hush. ;A; I'm proud of it.
I sprinted through the blackness with a fluttering heartbeat, my breath uneven, ankles sore. I heard the pounding of hooves up ahead, I could even feel the dust as I ran faster and faster, no matter where I was. I ran straight, not bothering to turn sideways, despite the wind I felt rushing past me. It must be flying endlessly, just like I am running, with no destination…
My eyes slowly began to open, for I was tired of dreaming. The sun began to shine brightly through my windows. I groaned, stuffed my face into the pillow, and began slipping into unconsciousness.
My thoughts flickered to multiple things, such as my mother’s fluffy pancakes, which I could smell from here. She is a poet, writing poetry so beautiful that it’s possible to make me cry. Her descriptions are so stunning, so real. It makes me imagine I’m really there.
I thought about what I would be when I grew up. I drifted into a gentle sleep, yet my thoughts stayed on the same page. I dreamed about what I would be like if I was a photographer, or maybe an astronomer, analyzing the stars. Quite possibly an author, for I do write exceptional stories. I was a horrible artist, so I shunned that thought. Drawing was not in my capability, nor my interests.
I went to school that day, still thinking about what my career could be. I watched children of various ages run around on the playground, enjoying themselves with no idea what they would do for a living. It made me smile in amusement, how they had no idea what the future held for them. The same went for me, but I didn’t mind.
In class, we were supposed to paint a picture of a field of flowers, but I told my teacher that I was not capable of that, for I was a horrible artist at the time. She grimaced, sent me back to my seat, and continued the directions for the project.
I attempted to paint the picture, and amazingly, it came out looking exceptional. Despite my lack of artistic knowledge, I had actually made a good picture for once. This was definitely going into my remaining good memories.
I got home just a few hours later, nibbling on a granola bar as I walked in. My younger brother pulled at my shirt; he wanted a bite of it. I broke off a piece and handed it to him, not bothering to say anything such as “Here you go” or “Enjoy.” I simply headed up to the office upstairs.
I typed in “dream meanings” and pressed ‘Search.’ The computer was slow, so I went to see what was for dinner. My mother was cooking spaghetti; I could smell the sauce. I hopped up to grab some cereal, and discovered that we didn’t have any, so I made myself a sandwich instead. I sat on the bottom step of my enormous staircase and nibbled at it, then slowly looked around the huge room, which apparently was our living room. It was so white; I never noticed. I could hear my little brother squealing in delight as he splashed water outside, for it had recently rained. I was trying to ignore the fact that it was raining again, so I walked up the stairs to the office, still nibbling at my sandwich. I glanced at the computer, to see what had come up, but it didn’t look like anything interesting. I gave up on that and decided to read a book, but nothing in particular seemed to catch my eye, so I read stories online about people who encountered ghosts or odd events.
After a little while, I thought it was an appropriate time to go to sleep, so I closed out all the windows and went to the bathroom to get ready. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, brushed my hair, and said goodnight to everyone in the house.
As I drifted into unconsciousness, I was running in that endless blackness once more. I saw a sparkle up ahead, and soon, it began glittering everywhere. The black sparkled, it glittered, it shone. And then, all was in color.
A beautiful horse with a turquoise/aqua color, mane and tail both a stunning, perfect silver. Its eyes were a neon blue, shining with excitement as I began to approach it. A land forever raining, wind rushing past me with a lulling howling noise. The sun was in a hole between clouds, making a sunlit rainy scene. My glossy black hair whipped to the west, the direction the wind was going. My gentle white silk nightgown seemed to be plastered against my body on the right side from the wind. I stared in amazement in front of me at the beautiful creature of my dreams.
This is what I had been missing all my life. This is what I have been dreaming of.
The next day, at school, we were supposed to paint another picture, but I assumed I was horrible, so I once again complained at the teacher, but she was insistent that she would give me all F’s on my report card if I did not do this assignment. So I ignored that and sat back down.
It was free painting today, and I had a blank easel in front of me along with paints of a large variety of colors. I began thinking about the astonishing scene from my dreams, and before I knew it, I was sketching, painting, going over anything, and finished.
I stared in awe at the picture I just had made myself, for it was the exact scene from my dreams. The pounding rain, the beautiful horse, the sun revealing itself from behind the clouds, the sunlight trying to escape, the grass rippling like an ocean forming a hurricane, everything.
From that moment on, I knew that I would have a very large group of friends, fans, whatever you wanted to call them; I was an artist, I was going to be an artist. People would admire my paintings, my drawings, anything I drew. I slowly began to take in that I was not alone, for I would have other artist friends help me with paintings. I would go to meetings and explain the purpose of these drawings, I would take requests and make money. No matter what I did, I would always be an artist.
I sprinted through the blackness with a fluttering heartbeat, my breath uneven, ankles sore. I heard the pounding of hooves up ahead, I could even feel the dust as I ran faster and faster, no matter where I was. I ran straight, not bothering to turn sideways, despite the wind I felt rushing past me. It must be flying endlessly, just like I am running, with no destination…
My eyes slowly began to open, for I was tired of dreaming. The sun began to shine brightly through my windows. I groaned, stuffed my face into the pillow, and began slipping into unconsciousness.
My thoughts flickered to multiple things, such as my mother’s fluffy pancakes, which I could smell from here. She is a poet, writing poetry so beautiful that it’s possible to make me cry. Her descriptions are so stunning, so real. It makes me imagine I’m really there.
I thought about what I would be when I grew up. I drifted into a gentle sleep, yet my thoughts stayed on the same page. I dreamed about what I would be like if I was a photographer, or maybe an astronomer, analyzing the stars. Quite possibly an author, for I do write exceptional stories. I was a horrible artist, so I shunned that thought. Drawing was not in my capability, nor my interests.
I went to school that day, still thinking about what my career could be. I watched children of various ages run around on the playground, enjoying themselves with no idea what they would do for a living. It made me smile in amusement, how they had no idea what the future held for them. The same went for me, but I didn’t mind.
In class, we were supposed to paint a picture of a field of flowers, but I told my teacher that I was not capable of that, for I was a horrible artist at the time. She grimaced, sent me back to my seat, and continued the directions for the project.
I attempted to paint the picture, and amazingly, it came out looking exceptional. Despite my lack of artistic knowledge, I had actually made a good picture for once. This was definitely going into my remaining good memories.
I got home just a few hours later, nibbling on a granola bar as I walked in. My younger brother pulled at my shirt; he wanted a bite of it. I broke off a piece and handed it to him, not bothering to say anything such as “Here you go” or “Enjoy.” I simply headed up to the office upstairs.
I typed in “dream meanings” and pressed ‘Search.’ The computer was slow, so I went to see what was for dinner. My mother was cooking spaghetti; I could smell the sauce. I hopped up to grab some cereal, and discovered that we didn’t have any, so I made myself a sandwich instead. I sat on the bottom step of my enormous staircase and nibbled at it, then slowly looked around the huge room, which apparently was our living room. It was so white; I never noticed. I could hear my little brother squealing in delight as he splashed water outside, for it had recently rained. I was trying to ignore the fact that it was raining again, so I walked up the stairs to the office, still nibbling at my sandwich. I glanced at the computer, to see what had come up, but it didn’t look like anything interesting. I gave up on that and decided to read a book, but nothing in particular seemed to catch my eye, so I read stories online about people who encountered ghosts or odd events.
After a little while, I thought it was an appropriate time to go to sleep, so I closed out all the windows and went to the bathroom to get ready. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, brushed my hair, and said goodnight to everyone in the house.
As I drifted into unconsciousness, I was running in that endless blackness once more. I saw a sparkle up ahead, and soon, it began glittering everywhere. The black sparkled, it glittered, it shone. And then, all was in color.
A beautiful horse with a turquoise/aqua color, mane and tail both a stunning, perfect silver. Its eyes were a neon blue, shining with excitement as I began to approach it. A land forever raining, wind rushing past me with a lulling howling noise. The sun was in a hole between clouds, making a sunlit rainy scene. My glossy black hair whipped to the west, the direction the wind was going. My gentle white silk nightgown seemed to be plastered against my body on the right side from the wind. I stared in amazement in front of me at the beautiful creature of my dreams.
This is what I had been missing all my life. This is what I have been dreaming of.
The next day, at school, we were supposed to paint another picture, but I assumed I was horrible, so I once again complained at the teacher, but she was insistent that she would give me all F’s on my report card if I did not do this assignment. So I ignored that and sat back down.
It was free painting today, and I had a blank easel in front of me along with paints of a large variety of colors. I began thinking about the astonishing scene from my dreams, and before I knew it, I was sketching, painting, going over anything, and finished.
I stared in awe at the picture I just had made myself, for it was the exact scene from my dreams. The pounding rain, the beautiful horse, the sun revealing itself from behind the clouds, the sunlight trying to escape, the grass rippling like an ocean forming a hurricane, everything.
From that moment on, I knew that I would have a very large group of friends, fans, whatever you wanted to call them; I was an artist, I was going to be an artist. People would admire my paintings, my drawings, anything I drew. I slowly began to take in that I was not alone, for I would have other artist friends help me with paintings. I would go to meetings and explain the purpose of these drawings, I would take requests and make money. No matter what I did, I would always be an artist.